Part 11 (2/2)
When it came to my turn to ask a question, I asked the candidate which of the cla.s.sical scholars had influenced him the most in his own life.
”I don't quite see the pertinence of that question,” he answered wearily. ”Of what significance is it to my position as a teacher who has influenced me or not?”
”I feel it is very relevant,” I replied. ”Were you applying for the Head of English post I would ask which is your favourite author or poet. It tells me something about you.”
”Well,” he replied dismissively, 'this is not for an English post, so I really cannot say.”
I decided not to pursue the line of questioning any further. There was enough heat in the room already without adding to it. The Conference Room was like a furnace. The huge metal contraption was blowing out great blasts of hot air, mostly in my direction, and I was beginning to feel like a side of beef on a spit.
The next candidate bore an unnerving resemblance to the first: the same thin angular frame, funereal expression, dark doleful eyes and sallow complexion. When asked by the canon why he had applied for the position, he replied that he wanted something more 'pedagogically challenging'. When asked by the parent-governor about his strengths, he replied that he had 'a fertility of intellect' and that he enjoyed mending clocks. In answer to Councillor Peterson's question as to the relevance of Latin and Greek he thought for a moment, crossed his spindly legs, folded his long arms and stared at the ceiling.
”Did you understand t'question?” asked the councillor after an inordinately long pause.
”Oh yes,” replied the candidate still staring heavenwards. ”I was just contemplating the best way of responding.” After another lengthy interlude he enquired, ”Perhaps, rather than answer that question directly, I might be allowed to set up a paradigm.”
”A what?” snapped the councillor.
”A paradigm,” repeated the candidate, p.r.o.nouncing the word with slow deliberation. ”Would it be acceptable for me to set up a paradigm?”
”It's all right by me,” replied the councillor, 'but is this room going to be big enough?”
”It is quite in order for you to set up your paradigm,” said the canon, his words accompanied by the sc.r.a.ping of chairs as the councillor and the parent-governor moved back to get a better view of what I suspected they imagined to be the erection of some sort of marquee. I was tempted to say that it might prove difficult hammering in the pegs.
The last candidate was a small, middle-aged woman with dark hair sc.r.a.ped back tightly on her head and tied in a neat bun. My heart missed a beat when I saw what she was wearing. She had on a suit made in exactly the same material as my own: mustardy brown with a dark red, dog-tooth pattern. There were no wide curved lapels, heavy cuffs or large leather b.u.t.tons but it was certainly made from the same cloth. By the look on her face the candidate was as surprised as I when she caught sight of my attire. The other interviewers clearly thought we were related in some way for their eyes flashed backwards and forwards from the candidate to me.
The room was now like a sauna and I could feel the perspiration all over my body and the heavy suit sticking to my body. I wondered how the candidate was feeling, but she answered the questions with great skill and flourish until it came to Councillor Peterson's turn.
”Ave you a family?” he asked.
”No, I'm not married.”
”Do you intend to?”
”Do I intend to what?” she asked sweetly.
”Get married.”
”Councillor Peterson,” the canon interrupted quickly, ”I'm afraid that kind of question cannot be put to the candidate.”
”Well, I just 'ave,” he replied.
”It is entirely irrelevant whether the candidate is married or not.”
”It's very relevant,” he replied aggressively. ”What if this young lady gets married and then 'as a family? She'll 'ave to 'ave time off to 'ave the kiddies and then get somebody to look after them when she's at work. That's not satisfactory at all, is it?”
”You are not allowed to ask that, ”joined in Mr. Mortimer, 'because it's a non-PC question.”
”A what?” exclaimed the councillor.
”It's not politically correct,” he was informed.
”Well, I think I know more abaat politics than anyone here present,” he spluttered. ”I've been a county councillor for nearly twenty years.”
”Shall we move on, Mr. Chairman?” asked the Headmaster, fixing the councillor with a look that brought to mind the Ancient Mariner and his glittering eye.
”I don't have any immediate plans to get married,” said the candidate looking Councillor Peterson in the eye, and with a smile playing about her lips, 'or indeed to have any children.”
”Right then,” he said, leaning back in his chair as if vindicated. ”I'll move on. Do you reckon you'd be able to cope with t'big lads, you bein' a woman an' all?”
The canon breathed out noisily. Dr. Trollop shook his head.
”I've never found any difficulty coping with big or indeed little lads.” She smiled and looked directly at him.
”Oh.” Councillor Peterson was lost for words.
”I generally find that they do exactly as I say.”
”Oh.”
”Large boys present no problems for me.”
”No,” muttered the councillor, rather chastened, ”I don't suppose they do, I mean don't, I mean, I'm sure they don't give you any trouble.”
”And your last question, Councillor Peterson, about the relevance of the subjects?” prompted the canon.
”Oh yes. Well, I'm just a simple farmer what sc.r.a.pes a livin' from t'land and not knowing Latin's not 'eld me back.
A lot of t'lads at t'school will end up running their family farm or mebbe becoming estate managers or land agents or working for t'Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries. What I'd like to know is, what's t'point of 'em studying Greek and Latin and all this cla.s.sical stuff?”
The candidate continued to smile sweetly. ”A knowledge of Latin helps us gain a good command of the grammar and vocabulary of our own language. Effective communication is very important in the modern world. It's always impressive to hear English well spoken, don't you think?” She paused and looked Councillor Peterson straight in the eye. ”I also believe that we have so much to learn from studying the Greeks and the Romans. Take Aristotle, for example. He wrote a great deal about logic, metaphysics, physics, astronomy, meteorology, biology, psychology, ethics, politics, philosophy and literary criticism. His philosophy became the foundation for the Islamic religion and was incorporated into Christianity. Then there's Socrates, such a clever, gentle and enigmatic man, very like Jesus.”
”Really?” said the canon suddenly sitting up. ”In what way?”
”Well, their contemporaries found them both difficult to fathom. Neither of them wrote anything down and we have to rely on their disciples to know what they believed and what they said. We do know that they were wonderful communicators, great teachers, that they could use words in such a way that people's lives were changed for the better. Surely learning about such men helps young people to live good, honest lives, to become more compa.s.sionate, truthful and humane.”
”Fascinating, fascinating,” murmured the canon. ”I would dearly like to debate this further, but I am afraid that time is of the essence and I will now call upon Mr. Phinn, the representative from the Education Office, to put a question.”
”I was going to ask which cla.s.sical scholar has influenced you the most,” I said, looking into the candidate's china-blue eyes, 'but I'd guess from what you've said that it's either Aristotle or Socrates.”
”It isn't actually,” she replied. ”It would have to be Seneca.” She turned in the direction of Councillor Peterson. ”He was a Roman playwright and author of many essays and the teacher of Nero, one the most infamous of Roman emperors.”
”T'chap what fiddled when Rome was burnin',” said the councillor.
”The very one,” agreed the candidate. ”Despite teaching the young emperor and forming what he thought was a close relations.h.i.+p with his pupil, Seneca was forced by Nero to take his own life. He told the unvarnished truth, you see. It was a tragic end to a brilliant writer and philosopher. It was through reading Seneca that I decided to come into teaching. You see, he never lost his optimism and enthusiasm and delighted in the company of the young. He said that part of his joy in learning was that it put him in a position to teach, and that nothing, however valuable, would ever give him any pleasure if it were just for his benefit alone. ”If wisdom were offered me on the one condition that I should keep it shut away and not divulge it to anyone,” he once said, ”I should reject it, for there is no enjoying the possession of anything valuable unless one has someone to share it with.” Makes good sense, doesn't it?”
There was a silence in the room. The canon nodded, Mr. Mortimer shuffled his papers, the foundation-governor stared at the candidate as if she were the Queen herself, Dr. Trollop gave a brief smile and nodded, and I knew that this candidate had clinched the job. Indeed, fifteen minutes late rafter a surprisingly brief and amiable discussion, Miss Rebecca Barnes was offered the position of Head of Cla.s.sics.
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